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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27790552">landmine</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/newseptembers/pseuds/newseptembers'>newseptembers</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Cruise Ship, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - New Girl Fusion, Clothed Sex, Dirty Talk, Ex Sex, Exes, F/M, Getting Back Together, Happy Ending, Massage, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Rey is Nick, Sharing a Bed, based on a New Girl episode, ben is jess, let's just get back together we should have never broke up</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:14:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,392</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27790552</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/newseptembers/pseuds/newseptembers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“This is a bad idea.”</p>
<p>“But it’s just once.” In the dark, she hopes Ben can’t see the stupid, desperate look on her face. “It won’t change anything.”</p>
<p>“It’s the Grand Romance Package,” he agrees, after a beat of silence. His hand skims down the curve of her waist. “It’s messing with our heads.”</p>
<p>Rey breathes out, shaky in the quiet cabin, and closes her eyes. </p>
<p>“If we get it out of our systems, we can go back to normal.” </p>
<p>— Recent exes Rey and Ben agree to go on the romantic cruise they booked when they were still together. After all, what could go wrong?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>231</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Who's that ship? It's Reylo!</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>landmine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hi, and welcome to my fic for @reylobaelo's new girl exchange! this is based off of episode 3x23, "cruise," although i did go off piste a little. big thanks to britt for coming up with and hosting such a brilliant idea &lt;3</p>
<p>currently this fic is unbetaed, and i will be updating it tomorrow with the edited version! </p>
<p>EDIT: the betaed version has been posted! as always, huge huge thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/scintillant/pseuds/scintillant">rose</a> for the beta! i wrote this entire fic in one sitting and it would not have be half as readable without her. </p>
<p>the title is taken from a line nick says in the episode.</p>
<p>i hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p>“This is a bad idea.”</p>
<p>“But it’s just once.” In the dark, she hopes Ben can’t see the stupid, desperate look on her face. “It won’t change anything.”</p>
<p>“It’s the Grand Romance Package,” he agrees, after a beat of silence. His hand skims down the curve of her waist. “It’s messing with our heads.”</p>
<p>Rey breathes out, shaky in the quiet cabin, and closes her eyes. </p>
<p>“If we get it out of our systems, we can go back to normal.” </p>
<p>“Normal,” Ben repeats, hand settling heavy and possessive on her hip. It’s the way he used to hold her, and the touch is quietly familiar and thrillingly new all at once. “What’s normal, Rey?”</p>
<p>Normal, like before, where Ben was just the roommate she liked a little bit more than the others, and he drove her to work and propped up the bar and she gave him free drinks and it was <em>easy,</em> uncomplicated evenings spent stealing glances at him out of the corner of her eye?</p>
<p>Normal, like after he kissed her, after he fucked her on his plaid flannel sheets right after she ended things with Snap, and they spent the next week in Ben’s room, ignoring their roommates in favour of pressing each other against every horizontal surface and finally working out years of sexual tension?</p>
<p>Or their new normal, where they avoid each other in the kitchen and Rey spends her nights crying to Dirty Dancing like she’s the one who got dumped instead of the one who did the dumping?</p>
<p>She doesn’t answer, hands creeping under his shirt to map across the plane of his back. She wants to tug him into her, wrap herself around him until he becomes <em>part</em> of her, subsumed by her body.</p>
<p>Ben inches nearer, his breath misting over her cheek. Far below them, the boat rocks back and forth, the slow roil of the ocean bringing them closer together and just as surely pulling them apart.</p>
<p>“Fuck it,” he murmurs, mouth pressed against her jaw.</p>
<p>He kisses her back. </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>“The cruise is non-refundable.”</p>
<p>Rey looks up from her position on the floor, twisted into a pretzel as she attempts to work out the knots in her back caused by weeks of sleeping on the sofa, and sighs heavily. </p>
<p>Ben stands in the doorway, phone clutched in his hand. In the glare, his face looks pale and drawn, the dark circles under his eyes cast purple in the unforgiving light. </p>
<p>Apparently, she’s not the only one who’s been having trouble sleeping. </p>
<p>But Rey doesn’t care about that—about <em>him</em>—anymore. </p>
<p>She excised the feelings, locked them away in a box that she will never open again: not when he comes home from the office right when she leaves for her shifts at the bar and they pass each other in careful silence on the stairs; not when Poe says, <em>“Hey, bud, want to get out for the night? There’s a new club opening downtown and I have V.I.P. tix,” </em>and Ben <em>goes;</em> not when she deals with the awkwardness of all her belongings still being stored in his bedroom and creeps in while he’s in the shower to rescue her favourite pair of jeans, only to turn around and be faced with his half-naked torso, water dripping from the ends of his hair and rolling in smooth droplets down the plane of his chest. </p>
<p>When they broke up, she carved the lines of separation down the loft with a knife, and they’ve made it this far through deliberate avoidance and carefully orchestrated group get-togethers, never alone with each other long enough for the silence to turn bitter. </p>
<p>It’s worked, for the most part. </p>
<p>But that cruise was going to be the first vacation Rey ever had—Ben’s present, when they were convinced they were <em>it</em> for each other. Her first time leaving the country. She’s not giving that up. </p>
<p>“I’m still going,” she shrugs, propping herself up on her elbows. “I’ve already taken the time off work.”</p>
<p>Three precious vacation days, carefully saved up and accounted for well in advance, one of the only holidays she’s ever taken. </p>
<p>Ben blinks, a furrow forming between his brows. </p>
<p>“I paid for it,” he says slowly, and Rey barely suppresses the urge to scowl at him, breathing deeply through her nose. She bought her ticket for the flight out there only after a fight that lasted days, Ben unable to see why his casual display of wealth made her skin prickle with unease. “And it’s the only vacation I’ll get this year. Snoke wants me to lead the summer school in July.”</p>
<p>“We’ll both go, then,” Rey says, forcing a smile through gritted teeth. “It’ll be fine. Totally fine.”</p>
<p>A week-long cruise with her ex. She must be out of her mind. </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>“Welcome onboard Resistance Cruises! May I see your name and booking number?”</p>
<p>The woman behind the desk is short and perky, hair wound into two space buns at either side of her head, and her voice goes through Rey like nails on a chalkboard. They’re off the coast of Naboo, but even in the early evening it feels like the middle of summer, sun beating down on the deck. The back of Ben’s neck has turned a delicate shade of pink already, and she watches as he presses a bottle of water against his skin with a hiss, the condensation running into the collar of his t-shirt. </p>
<p>“It’s Solo,” he says. “Solo and Niima.”</p>
<p>“Perfect,” she hums, turning her attention to the computer. “Just give me two seconds.”</p>
<p>Rey shifts from foot to foot, lingering behind Ben at the check-in desk. She can smell the ocean, the salt of the water stronger than she expected. It hasn’t quite sunk in that it’s <em>real</em>. </p>
<p>“Great,” the worker announces, beaming at them. “We’ve got you booked under the Grand Romance Package, so here is your trip itinerary—”</p>
<p>She thrusts a sheaf of papers across the desk, bright pink lettering blaring things like <em>COUPLES HOT YOGA </em>and <em>DINNER FOR TWO ON THE DECKS</em>, and Rey takes them incredulously, eyeing the advertisement for a romantic photoshoot with horror. </p>
<p>“There’s been a mistake,” Ben starts, his voice low and tight. His fingers drum an angry pattern at his side, and for a moment, she forgets herself and moves to place a warning hand on his lower back. “I called and changed the package—”</p>
<p>“I’m afraid I have no record of that,” the woman replies, smile still firmly fixed in place. “Changing packages goes against company policy. Would you like the map to your room?”</p>
<p>“I don’t <em>care </em>about company policy<em>,</em>” Ben spits. Rey doesn’t need to see his face to know that he’s fighting the urge to make a scene. “We’re not doing the fucking romance package, so can you get on the phone and—”</p>
<p>“Ben,” she interrupts, and he stops talking instantly, turning to face her. “It’s fine.”</p>
<p>Humiliation burns in the back of her throat, but she presses forwards, lowering her voice. “It’s a lot of money and I’m not wasting it.”</p>
<p>He stills, searching her face for a long moment, before he nods. </p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” Ben mutters, not making eye contact with the woman behind the check-in desk. “We just broke up.”</p>
<p>It’s strange, Rey thinks. They’ve never said it out loud, like if they refused to acknowledge it then it never really happened.</p>
<p>“You’re exes?” she replies. When they nod, she laughs, clapping a hand over her mouth in apology. “Oh, you guys are not gonna want to do this.”</p>
<p>But if she and Ben are one thing, it’s stubborn. </p>
<p>Stubborn before they got together, when Rey spent months ignoring her feelings and pretending that what they had was just friendship, until Ben kissed her in their darkened hallway and she spent the whole night awake and consumed with thoughts of his mouth on hers. </p>
<p>Stubborn when the cracks in their relationship started to show, when Ben asked pointed questions about her plans for the future and she snapped back at him, when Snoke kept him late at school and he missed dinner reservation after dinner reservation, when he got the vice principal promotion and started spending longer and longer hours at school, and they pretended like everything was fine, that barely seeing each other when you live in the same room is a normal thing for a couple.</p>
<p>Stubborn after they broke up, and she started sleeping on the couch but they still acted as though everything was normal, days filled with too-polite conversations where they steadily avoided the elephant in the room and Finn, Poe and Hux were caught in the middle.</p>
<p>Stubborn enough to do a cruise filled with romantic activities when the wound of their breakup is a bruise that still stings when they press on it. </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>The first item on their itinerary is a welcome night for the couples onboard, which Ben disregards immediately with a derisive snort, and so they make their way towards their room instead, something which Rey has steadfastly avoided thinking about so far. She knows what to expect. It’s a couples’ cruise. </p>
<p>They won’t be sleeping separately.</p>
<p>But their room is… almost gauchely romantic, like something out of a hallmark movie where a hardened lawyer and plucky nurse find themselves snowed in together at a hotel, and the only room left available is the honeymoon suite. There are swathes of red velvet draped across the walls, heart shaped cushions on every surface, and rose petals scattered across the floor, leading in a perfect trail to the bed.</p>
<p>The singular bed. </p>
<p>“This is fine,” she says breezily, dumping her bag. “We’ve slept together before. We can do it again.”</p>
<p>It takes her a second to realise the double entendre, heat rising to her cheeks. If only. Rey <em>misses</em> sex—sex with Ben, if she’s being truthful, his mouth and hands and cock working through the kinds of orgasms she’s never been able to achieve by herself. For all their relationship’s flaws, that hadn’t been one of them.</p>
<p>She coughs awkwardly, barely catching Ben’s smirk out of the corner of her eye. “You know what I mean.”</p>
<p>He nods shortly, moving around to the left side of the bed—his side, when they slept together—and proceeding to unpack, glasses and book and back-up book all carefully stacked on the bedside table in a neat pile. </p>
<p>“I’m going to go shower,” Rey announces, desperate for a moment alone. “The plane ride made me feel gross.”
</p>
<p>It’s the most time they’ve spent alone together since the break up, and Ben’s silence bears down on her like a weight, every moment bringing her closer to blurting out how she really feels: that she misses him, that she misses <em>them,</em> that sometimes when she’s lying wide awake on the sofa at three in the morning she thinks about getting up and crawling into bed with him, wrapping her arms around him and refusing to let go.</p>
<p>She grabs her bag and flees to the bathroom, cranking the shower up as hot as it’ll go and hissing when the water hits her skin, but also welcoming the sting, relishing the silence and the ability to <em>breathe</em>. She hadn’t realised just how exhausting it would be, being on high alert around Ben all the time. </p>
<p>It’s not until she’s out, towelling herself off and twisting her wet hair into a braid, that she realises the problem. </p>
<p>She brought one of Ben’s shirts as pyjamas. </p>
<p>It’s a plain black t-shirt, soft cotton worn nearly sheer through years of washes, and the smell of Ben is sunk so deeply into the fabric that even months of being in her possession hasn’t washed it out. There are holes along the neckline, in the seam, and one rip along the hem, and the fabric has pilled irreparably everywhere she touches.</p>
<p>Rey’s loved it since the first time Ben lent it to her. </p>
<p>When she creeps out of the bathroom, she has the fleeting hope that maybe Ben has fallen asleep already, the lights off in the bedroom, but when she dives across the floor to the bed her performance is rewarded with his low chuckle.</p>
<p>“You’re wearing my shirt,” he says, quiet in the darkness. She can hear the teasing smirk in his voice, and something in her stomach flutters. </p>
<p>But it’s not the kind of emotion she can indulge, so she forces the butterflies down, grabbing the spare pillow and placing it between their bodies as a barrier. </p>
<p>“Shut it, Solo,” she bites back, turning on to her side so he can’t see the smile threatening at the corner of her mouth. </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Rey wakes with the pillow discarded and Ben’s arm heavy around her waist, his chest to her back as their bodies breathe together, the hard line of his erection pressed against her ass. For a moment, it’s as though she’s gone three months back in time, back to a lazy Sunday morning in the loft where they’ll spend the day in bed, wrapped up in one another.</p>
<p>It takes her longer than she wants to admit to move, holding her breath as she manoeuvres her way out from the weight of his arm and shivering after leaving the warmth of his embrace. She has early morning yoga on the itinerary, and maybe, she reasons, the space will give her time to think. Twenty-four hours alone with Ben and she’s already slipping back into old patterns, acting as though they never tore themselves apart. </p>
<p>She dresses carefully in her sports bra and leggings, one cautious eye on the bare expanse of Ben’s back, still except for the steady rhythm of his breathing, and slips out the door while he’s still asleep. And if she presses her forehead against the door and wishes desperately to climb back into the circle of her arms, then that stays between her and the concierge who interrupts her silent agonising before showing her the way to the deck where the yoga sessions are located. </p>
<p>The instructor is a statuesque blonde, more energetic at eight in the morning than Rey will ever be, and she leads the bleary-eyed troop of tourists through a sun salutation and an hour of stretches that make the muscles in her thighs burn from the strain, sweat dampening the valley between her breasts and the small of her back as she breathes deeply into the workout. </p>
<p>But the burn is good, giving her something to focus on other than the way she and Ben woke up wrapped around one another, and when the session finishes, Rey thanks her with a smile before heading back to the room, mind blessedly at peace for the first time since she’s set foot on the ship.</p>
<p>That tranquility doesn’t last, because when she cracks open the door to their room, she’s greeted by the sight of Ben on the bed, scowling into his phone as he types furiously. </p>
<p>“What’s wrong?”</p>
<p>“Snoke,” he frowns, locking his phone and tossing it to the side. “He’s riding my ass about test scores right now. I should have brought work with me.”</p>
<p>He looks up at her, eyes quickly dropping down her body, and she tries not to fidget under the weight of his stare, feeling bare and exposed where his eyes trace over the skin of her midriff. </p>
<p>“Where did you go?” he continues, tilting his head. “I woke up and you weren’t here.”</p>
<p>Rey blushes, choosing not to point out that this is exactly why she left. She can’t put herself through this, through Ben acting as though the past few months have been nothing but a bad dream, and they’re on this cruise as the romantic getaway that it was always supposed to be. </p>
<p>She’s not strong enough to lose him a second time. 
</p>
<p>“There was a yoga class,” she shrugs, playing it cool. “I didn’t think you’d be interested.”</p>
<p>He nods slowly. “Maybe I should have gone. Worked out some of this frustration.”
</p>
<p>Rey has to bite back her suggestion of the <em>many</em> other ways he could  work out some tension that she can think of, all of them involving him, her, and their king-sized bed. That would be a bad idea. She’s <em>not</em> going to go there. </p>
<p>“We’re signed up for those massages this afternoon,” she offers instead, gesturing towards the printed itinerary lying discarded on her side table. “Maybe that’ll help.”</p>
<p>Ben grunts in agreement, rolling his shoulders. The movement makes the fabric of his shirt strain at the chest, the buttons threatening to give up. Rey has to tear her eyes away, and when she looks up it’s to see him staring at her, his gaze too knowing. </p>
<p>“What kind of massage is it?”</p>
<p>“I’m not sure,” she says. “It didn’t say. We’ll probably just be in the same room? I think that’s what normally happens with couples’ massages.”</p>
<p>He hums, standing up from the bed and moving closer, and even though she backs against the wall to avoid him, their bodies brush in the tight space of the bedroom.</p>
<p>“I’m going up to the deck. Call me when we need to go,” he murmurs, looming over her. When she nods, he makes a pleased noise in the back of his throat, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.</p>
<p>“I’m going to shower,” she whispers, ducking out from under his arm. It’s the closest they’ve been in weeks, and his nearness is intoxicating. She needs space, needs to remember how it felt to end things with him, like ripping her heart out of her chest. Needs to remind herself so that it never happens again. </p>
<p>But first, she wrings out an orgasm underneath the hot spray of water, hand slipping between her thighs as her heartbeat quickens at the memory of his dark eyes boring into hers, how <em>big</em> he was next to her, the expanse of his hand on her stomach. She lets herself remember the way his fingers—so much bigger than her own—worked her up to shatteringly high peaks, how his mouth pushed her over the edge again and again until she was limp and sated. How he brushed a kiss across her forehead when his cock pushed inside her. </p>
<p>And when she emerges shaky-legged from the steam, she buries all those memories. </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>The spa of the ship is two decks above their room, and Rey meets Ben outside, fighting the flush that threatens at her cheeks when she sees him again. They’re greeted by their masseuse, a tall, reedy man who tells them to call him Threepio, and leads them through a maze of rooms to a quiet hallway where sound seems dampened.</p>
<p>“We’re just inside,” he gestures, pointing towards the door. “If you could both undress to your comfort level and put on the robes provided, and then let me know when you’re ready.”
</p>
<p>They nod, and when the door swings shut and cuts them off from the outside world, they make awkward eye contact, laughing self consciously.</p>
<p>“I’ll turn around,” Ben says, and does, but Rey lingers for half a second, until his shirt drops off his shoulders and exposes the breadth of his back. When she removes her own clothes it’s practiced, efficient; she hears the fabric of Ben’s clothes hit the floor and shivers. </p>
<p>Changing in front of each other was a non-event when they were together, but now everything feels weightier, unfamiliar. She wonders if he stole a glimpse of her too. </p>
<p>Threepio reenters the room in a cloud of incense, wheeling a small trolley filled with jars and vials that clink together as they move, and he smiles widely, draping a towel across the massage bed in the center of the room. </p>
<p>“Excellent!” he says, clapping his hands and turning to face them. “Now, are either of you practiced in the art of massage?”</p>
<p>Rey blinks. </p>
<p>“Excuse me,” she asks, weaving the tie of the robe through her fingers. “But I thought this was a couples’ massage.”</p>
<p>“It is, my dear,” Threepio says. One pale eyebrow quirks as he looks between them. “I guide you through massages you can do on one another at home.”
</p>
<p>Her heart starts beating a rapid tattoo in her chest. “I’m sorry, we thought—”</p>
<p>“—Thought that it sounded amazing when we saw it in the brochure,” Ben interrupts, shooting a glance at her that she can’t quite name. “Didn’t we, Rey?”</p>
<p>She can only nod, mind paralysed with the thought of what’s to come: having Ben’s hands on her skin again, his warm hands mapping her body as he presses against her.</p>
<p>“Wonderful,” Threepio smiles. “Who wants to get on the table first?”
</p>
<p>Rey finds herself volunteered without realising it, moving to the table in a fog and shrugging the robe off her shoulders. As soon as she’s comfortable—as comfortable as she can be, with her entire body alive with anticipation—Threepio drapes a second towel across the expanse of her lower back before turning the lights down and pressing play on a hidden sound system.</p>
<p>Hypnotic spa music fills the air as she feels Ben move closer, like the molecules of air surrounding them have solidified and parted around him, and she gasps without meaning to when his hands land firmly on the space between her shoulders, skin slick with some kind of warming oil. </p>
<p>Heat pools between her thighs instantly, and Rey lets her eyes flutter closed. Dimly, she hears Threepio behind her, guiding Ben through the massage as his hands work their way up her back in long, steady strokes, each pass slicking her skin with the oil. </p>
<p>
  <em>“Excellent, Ben, excellent. It’s important to keep a steady pressure as we move up the body—push from your shoulders, not your wrists. You’re not going to hurt her.”</em>
</p>
<p>The warmth of his hands moves to her upper back, and when Ben works out a particularly stubborn knot at the base of her neck she can’t help the low groan that escapes her, face flushing. Beneath his hands, her neck feels terrifyingly fragile, the sensitive patch of skin at the base of her jaw—the one spot he loved to kiss—alight when his fingers move over it. </p>
<p>He could encircle her neck without even trying.</p>
<p><em>“And moving down again, to the lower back</em>,<em>”</em> Threepio intones, Ben following his voice. <em>“It’s important to maintain continuous skin to skin contact. We never fully remove our hands from the client.”</em></p>
<p>Ben’s hands are all over her, working in wide swathes across her back, creeping round her sides to press at the sides of her breasts and making her nipples pebble against the rough towel she’s lying on. The heat between her legs has become a slow-banked burning, her arousal slipping down her thighs, but she’s helpless beneath his ministrations, not brave enough to press her legs together.</p>
<p>Because then he’ll <em>know </em>how much he’s affected her. </p>
<p>
  <em>“Coming back up now, moving to the arms and hands…”</em>
</p>
<p>Rey barely pays attention to Threepio’s words, every part of her focused on not letting any more indecent noises slip out, not letting Ben realise how embarrassingly wet she’s become just from his touch. </p>
<p>She doesn’t even feel him finishing off the massage, lying on the table in a daze well after his hands have finally left her body. When she stands, her legs are shaking, coltish. It’s like she’s clay that was moulded under his hands, her form fundamentally changed by him.</p>
<p>“How did I do?” Ben asks, smiling at her. </p>
<p>She can’t answer, her mind still on the table, still stuck on the way their positions reminded her of the way he liked to fuck her from behind, one hand on the back of her neck and pressing her into the pillows, the other forcing her legs apart so he could play with her clit, making her writhe beneath him.</p>
<p>“That good, huh?” he teases, and all she can do is nod. </p>
<p>Rey knows they swap positions, that Threepio talks her through the same massage on Ben, that her hands glide across the expanse of his back and shoulders, tracing a pattern between the moles that dot his skin like constellations. But time passes in a haze, and it feels like she’s barely blinked before they’re dressed again, waved out of the room in a cloud of perfume.</p>
<p>The fresh air hits her like a freight train, and she blinks in the sunlight as they stand on the top deck, drawing to a halt beside the pool.</p>
<p>“You want to sit out for a bit?” Ben says, tilting his head towards the sunloungers, but the thought of being so close to him again is torture. She can’t sit next to him for any longer without doing something stupid, something like climbing into his lap at the poolside and begging him to fuck her right there, heedless of the tourists, heedless of the nights she’s spent crying alone over him. </p>
<p>“No,” she says, faint. “I’m gonna go back to the room for a while.”</p>
<p>“Swe— Rey. Are you alright?”</p>
<p>He draws closer, one hand gentle on her upper arm. She’s going to be sick. She can’t deal with this, being so cruelly reminded of everything they had—everything <em>she </em>had—and everything she lost. </p>
<p>“I’m fine!” Rey smiles, the expression feeling manic. But Ben can’t suspect her. “That massage really tired me out. I think I’m just going to nap for a bit before dinner.”
</p>
<p>Dinner. </p>
<p>On the ship, it’s a formal event, black tie optional but strongly encouraged, and when they booked the cruise she had been thrilled at a chance to finally <em>wear</em> her bridesmaid dress from Rose’s aborted wedding, floor-length forest green tulle that flutters around her legs and makes the gold in her eyes shine.</p>
<p>She’s still excited to wear the dress—it was expensive, after all, and Rey’s not one to let things languish in her wardrobe—but now she has no idea how Ben will react. </p>
<p>The first time she was meant to wear it, they would have walked down the aisle together, him in a tie that matched her dress perfectly. Even after Rose’s wedding was cancelled, the first time he saw her in it was going to be an <em>event, </em>a black tie dinner at the end of a romantic cruise, where they could walk on the deck after eating and look at the stars together. </p>
<p>They can still do that, she supposes, but it’s different now. No one stargazes with their ex.</p>
<p>“Okay,” Ben says, pressing her hand between two of his own. “I’ll see you soon.”</p>
<p>She barely makes it through the door of their room before the tears she’s tried so hard to keep at bay escape. </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>“Rey, are you ready?”</p>
<p>She has the contents of her makeup bag strewn across the bathroom counter, hand shaking as she meticulously applies her eyeliner, her dress unzipped at her back, and Rey takes a deep breath before telling Ben for the fourth time that <em>no,</em> she isn’t, and it’s only been two minutes since he last asked, so what did he expect?</p>
<p>Putting the cap on her eyeliner, she pokes her head out the door, ready to snap at him, but her vitriol dies in her throat. It’s been an age since she's seen him in a suit, and the black wool hugs the breadth of his shoulders, his dark hair waved back from his forehead.</p>
<p>He looks like the Ben she fell in love with, who came to the bar after his school let out with his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows and his tie undone at his neck. </p>
<p>“Can you zip me up?” she asks instead, turning around and presenting him with her back. The zipper of her dress stops at the base of her spine, and she knows the band of her underwear is visible, thanking God for the foresight she had when she packed that lacy thong. </p>
<p>Ben coughs, one hand landing on her bare shoulder, the other fiddling with the zip.</p>
<p>“Jesus,” he swears, his breath puffing hot on her neck when he bends down. “This thing is fucking tiny.”</p>
<p>His hand moves to the nape of her neck, and the zipper glides slowly upwards, but he doesn’t release her when she’s fastened. Instead, his head tips forward to rest on her shoulder, and Rey knows she isn’t imagining the brush of his lips against her skin. </p>
<p>“This dress,” he murmurs against her. “Your bridesmaid’s dress, right?” </p>
<p>She hums.</p>
<p>“I imagined what it would look like. But I didn’t… you’re beautiful, Rey.”</p>
<p>Her breath catches in her throat, and she turns slowly to face him, their faces inches apart. His pupils are blown black, the brown of his iris completely eclipsed. He looks like he did that night in the hallway, when he kissed her and rearranged her world before sending her back to bed with another man. He looks like he’s barely in control, like a landmine liable to go off at the slightest pressure. </p>
<p>“Dinner,” she whispers. “It starts at eight.”</p>
<p>It’s like a shutter comes down over his features, and Ben straightens up, offering her his arm. 
</p>
<p>“Of course,” he says. “Let’s go.”</p>
<p>She can’t help but mourn what might have happened if she hadn’t been sensible. </p>
<p>If she had let herself take what she wants. </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>If you’d asked her at the start of the week, Rey would have said that a five course meal with her ex was her personal version of hell. </p>
<p>And to start with, it’s awkward. It’s been so long since she and Ben have had a proper conversation—since before their break-up, even. They stopped talking long before things properly ended. </p>
<p>But the wine smoothes the way, red for him and white for her, and the food is amazing, things she never in her life thought she’d get to try, like actual caviar, and salmon so finely seared that it melts in her mouth. She only mixes up her forks once, saved by Ben’s gentle interruption, and the portions are tiny enough that even after four courses she still has room for dessert.</p>
<p>Which she orders, of course, a chocolate confection that gets wheeled out like a present, Ben watching with his coffee as she does her best not to smear sauce all over her face.</p>
<p>“This is <em>so</em> good,” she moans around the spoon. “It’s like… literally orgasmic.”</p>
<p>She can’t hide her smirk when he chokes.</p>
<p>After their food is cleared away and the bill is added to their tab, they take the bottles of wine out to the deck, settling on the steps down to the pool and watching the waves gently break. Even in the evening, the air is warm, and their conversation continues effortlessly, everything from her plans for Christmas decorations at the bar to Hux’s latest promotion, each of them placing a bet on how long it’ll be before he finally gets the courage to ask Rose on a date.</p>
<p>And it’s nice, being with him like this. Rey can live with this carefully constructed friendship, where they avoid certain topics and ignore the tension that crackles in the air when someone’s eyes linger a little too long. </p>
<p>It’s better than not having him at all.</p>
<p>“I’ve decided to tell Snoke I can’t do the summer school,” Ben starts, jolting her out of her reverie.</p>
<p>“What?” she questions, eyebrows drawing together. “But you were so proud that he asked you to.”</p>
<p>She remembers it all too well—they’d planned a date, their first proper evening out in ages, and she’d sat at the restaurant for two hours before he showed up, barely apologetic as he regaled her with stories of Snoke’s <em>faith</em> in him. She thinks that night was the beginning of their end.</p>
<p>Ben sighs, taking a long sip of his wine. </p>
<p>“I was,” he admits, draining the glass and sitting it beside him. “But is it worth it?”</p>
<p>Rey sits back, unable to say anything that won’t reveal how hurt she still is by the fact that her boyfriend chose his boss over her. </p>
<p>“I won’t quit,” he says. “I love those kids too much. But I can’t lose everything else I love for him.”</p>
<p>Their eyes meet, and the silence between them turns thick and heavy, neither of them willing to be the first to breach it. </p>
<p>But the fact that Ben’s here, saying this to her, showing her the email where he resigns from the summer school, makes hope begin to swell in her chest. It’s the glimpse of light at the end of a tunnel. </p>
<p>He reaches for his bottle, tipping the remnants into his glass and cursing when it amounts to barely two sips, and Rey reaches forward impulsively. </p>
<p>“Here,” she says, grabbing her bottle and topping his glass up, the red and white wine mixing together. “Now it’s rosé—oldest bartending trick in the book.”</p>
<p>Looking up, she can’t believe how close they are, their noses almost brushing, and she tugs her lower lip between her teeth.</p>
<p>It takes no effort at all to lean closer and slot her mouth against his. </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>“Fuck it,” he murmurs, mouth pressed against her jaw.</p>
<p>He kisses her back. </p>
<p>Rey’s head is spinning, but it’s not from the alcohol. When she kissed him, Ben swept her up in his arms immediately, carrying her back to their room with breaks every ten feet to crowd her against the wall and grind against her, turning her into a whimpering mess before they even crossed the threshold.</p>
<p>But when they did, something changed in him, and he pulled away, like the magnitude of their actions suddenly dawned on him when they finally made it to a bed. </p>
<p>His hands haven’t left her body, but she can sense his apprehension, </p>
<p>“I don’t know what normal is,” she finally says, arms still wrapped around him. He’s still half on top of her, shirt untucked at the back where she’s raked her fingernails across his skin, and her dress is rucked up around her hips, her lacy underwear soaked through. “I haven’t since we broke up.”
</p>
<p><em>“Rey,”</em> he breathes. His hand cups her face. “Sweetheart.”
</p>
<p>“This trip has been torture, Ben. Being so close to you is killing me.”</p>
<p>Tears smart at the corner of her eyes, one lone droplet travelling down her cheek, and Ben bends down to kiss it away. She can feel him trembling. </p>
<p>“I’m still in love with you,” she whispers, threading one hand through his hair. “I never should have started that fight.”</p>
<p>His mouth meeting hers feels like coming home, feels like every good thing in the world, like Christmas morning and winning the lottery all at once.</p>
<p>“Rey,” Ben repeats, as though all he can say is her name, breaking away from her lips to press kisses down the line of her neck. “Rey, sweetheart. I never stopped loving you. Losing you was the worst mistake I ever made.”</p>
<p>She tugs him back to her, makes him look her in the eyes when she tells him, “I love you, Ben Solo. You’re never losing me again. Now <em>please,</em> fuck me. I’ve missed you.”</p>
<p>He groans against her, their mouths meeting once more as she hooks her leg over his hip and tugs him into her, rocking into the friction of their bodies.</p>
<p>“Please,” she murmurs, bucking her hips. “Please please <em>please—” </em></p>
<p>“I’ve got you, baby, I—” Ben breaks off, hands fumbling under her skirt, making her squeak with pleasure as his fingers trace circles round her clit, her body an instrument he never forgot how to play. “Jesus, Rey, you’re soaking.”</p>
<p>“Been wet since that massage,” she gasps, batting his hand away, dragging his belt out of its loops and tugging down his fly. “Want you inside, please, your hands were torture—”</p>
<p>“Hmm?” he asks, deliberately slowing down. “What did you say?”</p>
<p>Rey fights the urge to scream, entire body wound tight around his fingers. Her dress is irreparably crumpled between them, but she can’t bring herself to care, too focused on Ben’s touch.</p>
<p>“Inside, please,” she begs him. “I want your cock inside me, Ben. <em>Please</em> give it to me.”</p>
<p>When he presses inside of her she loses control of the moans caught in her throat, the stretch of him forcing helpless sounds of pleasure out of her as she clings to him. It’s been so long, and without the prep of his fingers the burn dances the edge of pain, but Rey welcomes it, burying her face in Ben’s neck as his thrusts jolt her up the bed. </p>
<p>“I’ve got you,” he repeats, fingers pressing against her clit until she’s shaking around him. “Gonna fill you up, baby, get you coming on my cock. You’re gonna be good for me, yeah?”
</p>
<p>She can’t speak around the cry that erupts from her throat as he pushes her over the edge, nodding frantically as her cunt clenches around him, and Ben groans, finding her mouth again.</p>
<p>“Please,” she gasps as soon as she catches her breath. “Please come in me, Ben—”</p>
<p>“Not till you come again, sweetheart.”
</p>
<p>With his fingers drawing circles at the apex of her thighs and his cock splitting her open, it takes seconds before Rey’s at the edge again, her entire body drawn tight around him, and all it takes is one twist of his fingers coupled with a thrust that hits just the right place inside her before her mouth opens in a silent scream and she shatters around him, the walls of her cunt milking his cock.</p>
<p>Her orgasm is what undoes him, Ben burying his face in her neck as his hips jerk and he comes with a low groan, flooding her with warmth, and he clutches her to him as they come down, rolling over so Rey rests on his chest with his cock still inside her.</p>
<p>“I love you,” he whispers, tracing his hand along her bare arm. “I’m sorry that I ever made you doubt that.”</p>
<p>“You’ve got time to make it up to me,” she whispers back, propping herself up on his chest so their eyes meet. “Like the rest of this cruise.”</p>
<p>“And the rest of our lives,” he murmurs back. “If you’ll let me.”
</p>
<p>She answers him with a kiss that promises <em>forever. </em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you for reading! if there's anything you feel that should be tagged and hasn't already, please let me know in the comments. </p>
<p>i'll share my twitter once fics come off anon! i can't wait to see who else has been involved in this exchange.</p>
<p>[edit: authors have been revealed! taking part in this exchange has been so much fun :)) if you'd like, you can follow me on twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/bensreys">here!</a>]</p></blockquote></div></div>
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